Fruit of the Womb Archive

Depression is a lonely, scarry place to be. Here I was, 21 years old. I was taking Chemistry and Biology with about 15 hours of lab per week, with the stubborn goal of becoming a doctor. My son was three. My daughter was one. I received a check every month from welfare for $540. My rent was $325. I spent about $100 in gas to get to and from school each day. I used the balance to pay $1.50/hr to my Pakistani neighbor woman who watched my kids so that i could attend classes. She became a bit like a surrogate mother for me, too. If it wasn't for food stamps, we would have starved. I was becoming very thin with the stress unbelievable. My soul seemed to age literally years every few months. At 21 years old, I often was quoted as saying, "I may be 21, but my soul feels 40." There was a moment, while still attending jr. college that haunted me for years. I was feeling crushed from the weight of poverty and trying my best to survive. I called my mother to express my anguish and ...

Overcome by guilt, I felt obligated to try and "make it work." We started counseling and went to a marital retreat, where other marriages in distress met in an attempt at healing. However, we were by far the youngest couple there, by both age and experience. I was chastised and told that "God hates divorce," but I also learned that divorce is only acceptable in times of 'marital unfaithfulness." I knew then I would be taking that door out. Craig, as big as he is , was willing to 'forgive me'. He was suddenly the 'good Christian' that he never had been, cooing Bible verses that suddenly aided his desperate attempts to keep me. He stopped chewing tobacco and wanted to 'pray.' The inauthenticity began to reveal itself to me as the form of manipulation that it was. Still, we began counseling together through a local church. However, individual counseling began when it was decided that she could not help "two lost sheep." Counse...